


Stress Relief

by rikyl



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Chekhov's handcuffs, Episode: Time Capsule, F/M, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikyl/pseuds/rikyl
Summary: A Time Capsule AU in which Ben and Leslie find another use for the handcuffs.Originally written for the old NBC kink meme on LJ.





	

As the last few community members filed out of the public forum, somehow she and Ben were the last two people in the room. Ben was taking his time packing up, and Leslie smiled to herself, feeling like she had a pretty good idea why he was hanging back. 

He smiled back at her in that closed-mouthed self-conscious way he had, which was really kind of adorable. “Well that turned out okay, I guess,” he said.

“Yeah. I think it did.”

Ben moved a little closer to her and leaned against the table nearby, trying to look casual but failing by a long shot. Leslie smiled wider at him, finding it endearing how unsmooth he could be. 

“A guy actually handcuffed himself to a chair in your office today,” he commented with a little laugh. “Pretty weird, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty weird,” she agreed cheerfully. “Seems like a waste of a good pair of handcuffs to me.”

Crap. She couldn’t believe she just said that out loud. To a coworker. A cute coworker, at that. It had just sort of slipped out before she knew what she was saying.

Ben stared at her, and it was notable how little his facial muscles moved. His eyes widened slightly, but overall it looked as if he was trying very hard not to show any sort of reaction. On a face that was usually so expressive, it was kind of conspicuous.

Leslie winced, feeling her whole face scrunch up in embarrassment. “Sorry. I can’t believe I said that out loud,” she said in a rush. “It’s just … I used to date a cop, and we would—never mind! You don’t want to hear about that!”

Ben’s eyes widened a little further, but then he looked away from her and swallowed hard, and damn it, she couldn’t believe she was telling details of her sex life to a coworker. The cute coworker. The cute coworker who obviously liked her.

Wait.

Struck with an idea, Leslie touched his arm, and his gaze snapped back up to hers, and there was something tangible in the air between them. Suddenly she had this epiphany moment: this was what sexual tension felt like—this thing where she couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on her as they shifted behind the podium the other day, kept catching herself checking out his butt, kept feeling his hot gaze on her. She couldn’t remember feeling anything quite like it before.

It must have had something to do with all the stress, all the pressure … she needed some sort of release. Maybe she just really needed to get laid. And here was this cute guy who liked her, who was leaving soon, so why not have a little fun with him? People did that sort of thing, right?

“Ben, could you give me a ride home?”

She moved her fingers on his arm, trying to think of something seductive she could say or do to get the point across to him.

“Um … your car is … where’s your car?” His voice sounded a little higher than usual.

“My car is … Tom has my car to … deliver it to Ann because she …” Crap. She wished she were better at this. “Forget that. I want to have sex with you, so you need to come to house for that. We’re both single adults who find each other attractive. Right? I think?” 

He wasn’t moving, just watching her fingers on his shirt sleeve, his mouth partially open, apparently processing. She stepped in a little closer, feeling him tense in response, and lowered her voice to what she thought was a seductive level. It seemed kind of important to close the deal—going home alone at this point would be kind of depressing and mortifying.

“Come on, Ben, I’m really stressed out and really horny and I just need you to do this for me. Are you in or out?”

He finally slid his eyes back up to meet hers, and she hadn’t imagined it, all that admiration and desire was definitely there. He raised one cautious eyebrow at her. “You … don’t want me to buy you dinner first?”

Why was he making this difficult? “Ben. You made me soup. That counts. Let’s go.”

He frowned, shook his head, laughed a little, a soft what-the-hell kind of laugh. And seriously, what the hell? She was offering no-strings sex, and he should be counting his lucky stars.

“You always were hard to say no to,” he said quietly, straightening up from the spot he had been leaning on the table. “I don’t know where you live. Should I follow you?”

\--

“I like your place,” he said a few minutes later at her house. He smiled at a framed Harvest Festival flier on the wall. “You have some really nice artwork.”

“Thanks. My bedroom’s back this way.” Leslie tugged on his hand and led him there, then closed the blinds and started undressing. As she pushed her blazer off, he was still hovering in her doorway, like he was popping into her office to push a meeting back or something. It was unnerving.

“What are you waiting for? Why are you still wearing pants?”

He furrowed his brow at her quizzically. “I just got here, Leslie.”

“Yeah, I know. I brought you here for a reason. Pants off!”

He looked confused, but he complied. As she stripped down to her bra and panties, he just stood there, pantsless, staring, and she almost laughed at the sight of him in his buttoned-up plaid shirt and socks.

“Ohmygod, take the rest of it off too. You look ridiculous.”

Without looking away from her, his eyes narrowed warily, he removed his socks, undid his tie, and started to unbutton his shirt methodically. He was being way too slow, so she came over to help him, and he seized the opportunity to put his arms around her waist and pull her closer to him, close enough that she was having trouble working the buttons.

She was somehow annoyed and aroused at the same time, because he did feel really good up this close. His hands were large and firm on her back, he was thin but solid, and she was caught off guard by how nice it was just to be held. Then he lowered his mouth down to hers, and for a moment she forgot about the buttons and let herself be kissed. His lips were gentle and firm, and a wave of heat flooded her body as she melted against him.

As his tongue teased into her mouth, she suddenly felt renewed interest in getting him naked as quickly as possible, and worked her hands up between them so that she could get at those buttons again. Finally she undid the last one and victoriously shoved it off him, so that he was wearing only a white undershirt and boxers. He responded by groaning into her mouth and lowering her onto the bed.

Now his body was over hers, but he was keeping his weight off her still, propped up on a hand and his knees. With his other hand, he was starting a tentative exploration of her body, and they were in full makeout mode, a tangle of lips and tongues and heavy breathing. 

He was a really good kisser, and already she felt the wet heat spread between her legs. She pulled back from the kiss long enough to say, “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

He kept kissing her, murmuring distractedly against her mouth, “Do what?”

“Do this. Come on, Ben, keep up.”

“Slow down, Leslie. You have someplace to be?”

“No, but you do. Inside me. Now.”

She felt him smile against her mouth, and his answer came between light kisses. “In good time, okay? I’m enjoying this.”

With that, he resumed kissing her thoroughly, as if it was an end unto itself, and she tried to relax into it, tried to shake that persistent feeling of having to do everything at full speed all the time. One hand lightly cupped one of her breasts, his thumb teasing gently across her nipple through her bra and sending ripples of shivers throughout her body. She arched upward into him.

But instead of pushing back against her, he shifted back slightly, abandoning her mouth to trail kisses down her chin and onto her neck. It was gentle and sweet but ohmygod he just needed to be inside her now.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re kidding me right? Get on with it!”

He propped his head up and looked down at her, concerned, which wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d been looking for. “Are you okay? You seem like you just want this to be over.”

“The ending’s the best part,” she replied simply, and it was dark in her room, but they were close enough now that she saw him roll his eyes at her.

“Read the rest of the book first. The ending’s better that way, trust me.” He sighed, removing his hand from her breast to gesture for emphasis. “You have to stop thinking about everything in terms of instant gratification. Sometimes you don’t get everything you want right away, but a little time and effort will pay off.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes at him. “Ben. Are you really lecturing me about responsible governing again?’

“What? No! God, Leslie. I’m lecturing you about foreplay.” At that, they both kind of giggled, and he shook his head self-deprecatingly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stop lecturing. But try to relax, okay?”

He went back to kissing her on the mouth again, this time more gently, more slowly, pulling back slightly every time she tried to deepen it. It was like he was trying to drive her crazy on purpose, and the familiar frustration rose within her. It was just like Ben, always dragging his feet before giving her what she wanted.

Well, he might call the shots at the office. But this was her bed. She reached for his boxers, started to push them down.

His hands immediately caught her around her wrists and brought both her hands up over her head. With his fingers loosely but firmly closed around them, he had her pinned there, his face hovering inches away, with that expression she’d seen before, numerous times over the summer, whenever she pressed too hard or pushed his buttons. It was exasperated, frustrated, but not exactly in a negative way? It was hard to explain.

And it was a little startling to see it up this close. It was kind of hot, really.

“You know, I’m kind of wishing I had those handcuffs about now,” he whispered huskily. “You need to chill.”

Her eyes widened at him, her mouth falling open.

He was joking, she knew, but something about the idea—

“I have the handcuffs,” she blurted before she knew she was going to say it.

Leslie did consider herself pretty adventurous in the bedroom, willing to try different things, but never the first time with someone, never with someone so new or unfamiliar.

It had something to do with how frantic she’d felt ever since the government shutdown, with the pressure and responsibility to save her department all on her. She couldn’t slow down, couldn’t let up, couldn’t breathe, or the world might topple over. So the idea of ceding control to someone else, even if it was only for a short time, seemed instinctively appealing all the sudden. 

Ben’s grip on her wrists loosened, but he looked like he might not have heard her, or like her words might not have registered.

“I have the handcuffs,” she repeated. “He left them in my office, and I put them in my bag because I was going to give them back at the forum. But then I forgot. So I still have them. They’re in my bag.”

“Seriously? And you want me to … ?” He had an eyebrow raised at her, but his features had softened, and his fingers intertwined more gently with hers. It was a strange moment of tenderness considering the topic of conversation, and she was reminded of the way he’d taken care of her last week when she’d been sick. 

As weird as it seemed considering how much they’d clashed, she felt an overwhelming trust in him just then. She felt like he, of all people, was going to be the one to take the load off her shoulders, in one way or another.  
   
“Yes,” she answered, looking into those soft hot eyes. “That’s what I want.”

He considered her for a moment, then extracted himself from the bed and went to her bag, which she’d thrown by the bedroom door. As he came back with the cuffs, she unhooked and shrugged out of her bra, causing Ben to stop in his tracks by the bed. And she wasn’t sure if it was the sight of her bare breasts or the fact that she was moving too fast again or just his hesitation over this sudden change in plans. 

“What? It’s just practical. I won’t be able to get it off later with my hands in those.”

“Right,” he said quietly, frowning down at her as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’ve done this before.”

“Um, no … not exactly this.” Because actually she’d been playing the policewoman, and Dave had … never mind. She wasn’t going to think about Dave right then.

She laid back and shifted her arms up over her head, and he looked doubtfully between her and the cold metal handcuffs. “You’re sure about this?”

It surprised her how sure she was about this. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

He shrugged, then clipped a cuff over one of her wrists, looped the chain through a rung on her headboard, and secured the second cuff to her other wrist. Leslie tested them out, determined that her small hands couldn’t slip out of the rings. She had a little range of motion, but not enough to reach out and touch him or anything.

Suddenly it hit her, the vulnerable position she’d put herself in, of not being able to get up until he released her, not being able to control pretty much anything else that happened after this. Instead of the panic she would have expected, it was oddly freeing.

Ben still looked a little uncertain. “You okay? Are you comfortable?” 

“Yes,” she smiled up at him, and he smiled warmly back down at her before lowering himself down to kiss her again.

He was taking his time, but she felt herself relaxing and letting herself just enjoy it. As his mouth moved against hers, the tension drained out of her body, and she felt more in the moment than she had in a long time, like the only sensation that existed in the world was the feel of his mouth on hers.

Reflexively, she tried to move her arms toward his hair, his back, but was caught short by the length of chain. Ben broke the kiss and lifted his head then, smiling at her in a way that was a little less affectionate and a little more self-satisfied. Then he went back to trailing kisses down her neck, triggering a sharp exhale of breath from her lungs.

His lips settled on a spot at the base of neck, just above her collar bone, and started focusing their attentions there. It was nice, but his stubble kind of tickled, and she couldn’t help muttering under her breath, “This again?” 

“This,” he murmured against her skin, “is for telling me I looked ridiculous without pants.”

“It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t wearing pants. It was that you were still wearing your socks and a tie. I mean, come on.”

He raised his head just enough to glare at her and went back to working his lips against that spot, and she was pretty sure she was going to have a mark there, but she kind of liked the idea of having a visible reminder, and oh well she just wouldn’t wear any V-neck shirts this week.

Because actually, what he was doing felt kind of good. He was just kissing this very small spot, doing interesting things with his teeth and his tongue, but the sensation was spreading throughout her body, so much so that she began to wonder if she could orgasm from a hickey.

Before she had a chance to find out, he moved down, cupping one breast in his hand and raising her nipple to his mouth. She gasped as his lips landed on that sensitive spot, and he began to work his tongue in circles around it, grazing her with his teeth. The sensation was so powerful that she lurched against the chains, trying futilely to push him away from there.

“This,” he said quietly, “is for calling me a jerk.”

Through sharp breaths, she whimpered, “When did I … what?”

“It was one of the first things you ever said to me,” he said, rubbing his stubble between her breasts before focusing the attentions of his mouth on the other. “The first of many names you’ve called me.”

“Okay,” she managed breathlessly, feeling chastened and powerless but aroused and alive. “I guess I deserve that.”

He laughed softly, closing his mouth around her, pinching her other nipple between his fingers. One of his knees settled between her legs, and she tried to push against it, getting some friction where she really wanted it.

Then he ran his hand roughly down her body, into her underwear, and started pushing them down, and she thought, finally. Oh god. She had never felt so desperately turned on in her life.

But instead of taking his own underclothes off, he climbed back up on top of her again and put his hand between her legs, slowly pushing one finger inside.

She moaned, because it felt good, it felt so good, but so inadequate at the same time, it was maddening.

“This … is for kicking me out of April’s party when I was trying to apologize.”

“I apologized for that!”

He swirled the finger around, and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back at the sensation.

“And … now you’re making it up to me.”

Finally he pushed another finger in to join the first one, and she gasped as they stroked her insides. As good as what he was doing felt, it was a little unclear to her who was making what up to whom.

“This,” he said in that low voice, gazing down at her, “is for putting on that children’s concert after I explicitly told you not to.”

“But wait … you paid …” her voice sounded like a ragged gasp now, and she was having trouble forming the sentences.

“Yeah. I know.” He smiled in a resigned, rueful kind of way that seemed highly suggestive of ulterior motives she’d suspected back then and hadn’t been sure of—

But she couldn’t focus on that just then, because he was pushing a third finger into her, and her insides were flexing around him, trying to make something more of that, and suddenly his thumb started to work her clit. And it felt fucking amazing.

She went to put her arms around him again, trying to pull him in closer, feeling the cold metal cut into her wrists instead, reminding her that she was at his mercy. Instead she arched her back, trying to draw him in deeper and join her body with his in any way possible.

“This … is for showing up at the Chamber of Commerce meeting when you were supposed to be in bed. You could have trusted me.”

The warmth radiating from his hand had started to build and blot out everything else, but in some distant corner of her brain, it registered that this didn’t make sense, that she’d done really well that day, and he’d seemed to recognize that.

But then his lips closed on hers again, just briefly, because it seemed like he was struggling to catch his breath too. And this didn’t feel like punishment anyway, so she let it go. 

Involuntarily, she started bucking against his hand, working toward her release, and part of her thought she should be more embarrassed about how out of control she felt, the rampant moans that were escaping her mouth unbidden, the blatant way he was staring at her while she came. But then she was overcome with the waves of pleasure rocking her body and none of it seemed to matter.

When it was over, she collapsed against the sheets, arms still secured over her head but feeling relaxed and sated, and what does a person really need hands for anyway?

“Oh, wow. Okay. I’m done.” 

“I’m not,” Ben said, finally stripping off the rest of his clothes and positioning his naked body on top of her.

The feel of his naked skin against hers instantly reawakened that need inside her, and Leslie was surprised that even after coming, she still wanted the fullness and closeness of actual sex, and she wanted him desperately all over again. And it seemed like she was finally going to get what she wanted.

Instead he abruptly got up and left the bed. “You’re leaving? What? I thought you said …”

Then he came back with the key and unlocked the cuffs from her hands. She flexed them tentatively, staring at him questioningly, trying to figure out what was going on.

He smiled and shrugged. “I want your hands on me. And I’m not inclined to restrain you anymore. So, there you go.”

With that, he laid back down on top of her, kissing her again, and she took advantage of the renewed opportunity to rake her hands through his hair, and down his neck, and around his back and everywhere she’d been wanting to touch him for the past … however long, she’d totally lost track of time. 

He groaned and moved against her, clearly enjoying it, and then before she even was expecting it, he was positioning himself between her legs and sliding into her in one long stroke.

Ben paused, filling her up as her body flexed around him. “How’s that?” he whispered, obnoxiously.

And yeah, fine, it was way better this way, after all the buildup and anticipation and … effort … but there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

“It’s about time,” she said instead, pulling his face down next to hers so she didn’t have to look at his infuriating smile anymore. 

Then he started to move inside her, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, lifting her legs up to feel him deeper and at just the right angle, wrapping them around him to hold him as close as possible now that she could. 

He got a rhythm going, long strokes that were hitting in just the right spot, gradually picking up speed until everything went blurry around the edges, and she felt as free and out of control as she could ever remember feeling.

The strokes became faster, harder, less controlled, and she knew he was close, and the thought of what she was doing to him sent her completely over the edge. Her orgasm was longer and more intense than the first one, which she wouldn’t have guessed was possible before tonight, and she heard him crying out her name just as she peaked.

When they’d finally caught their breath afterward, she turned and grinned at him. “Thanks for that. That really hit the spot.” It felt like one of the bigger understatements of the century; she was sleepy puddle of contentedness, and she could hardly imagine ever being so tense again.

He squeezed her with the arm that was still draped across her and sighed happily. “Glad I could be of help."

“We should do this more often,” she said. “You know, for stress relief.”

Ben lifted his head to look at her, propping an elbow against the pillow, and she was struck again by how danged cute he was. Especially now, with his hair all mussed and his eyes all soft, and his shirt off.

“You know, this was great and all,” he said. “And I’d be willing to do it again. But dinner would be nice too. Or a movie?”

She giggled. “You think?”

“Yeah, I think. Sometimes it’s nice just to relax.”

Subtly, she eyed the handcuffs that were strewn across her nightstand. “I think you may be onto something. Relaxing sounds good.”


End file.
